


Semper Fi

by The_Hinky_Panda



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 10:44:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11919240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Hinky_Panda/pseuds/The_Hinky_Panda
Summary: Roz is a Marine that served overseas before the outbreak happened. She ends up in Woodbury and tries to keep to herself but every time she turns around, there's Merle Dixon. An odd camaraderie is formed that begins to shift into something more.





	Semper Fi

She’s brought to Woodbury, bloodied, starving, and half-out of her mind with fever. But they treat her, feed her, and within two weeks, she’s placed on guard rotation. That’s when she meets him, the one who dragged her half-dead ass out of the woods. Truth be told, she can’t believe that someone like Merle Dixon would give enough of a shit about anyone to carry them two feet, let alone the two miles to Woodbury.

It’s a summer afternoon in Georgia and they’re both pacing the length of the wall, drenched in sweat and ill-tempered. After half an hour of the walking and no sign of walkers below them, they take up a relaxed stance towards the center of the barricade. A couple minutes pass and Merle leans over the side and spits. He must have caught the look on her face.

“What?”

“That’s disgusting,” she states simply.

He laughs at her but there’s a bite to it. “Didn’t realize I was up here with the fuckin’ Queen of England.”

She’s a marine, served three years overseas. Disgusting male habits are not unknown to her. “You don’t have to be a queen to have some manners.”

“It’s the end of the world, sweetheart. Manners are a luxury no one can afford.” 

“Guess we’re going to have to agree to disagree there.”

He leans on the AK-47 that had been strapped across his chest. “Thought you were military.”

“I am.” She crosses her arms across her chest and ignores the pointed look he gives her. “Thought you were too.”

He nods. “Army.”

“Ah! That explains it then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She grins and picks up her AR-15. “The US Military never deemed the Army important enough to teach manners to their recruits.”

His frown is deep. “Oh yeah. So what branch are you from then, huh?”

“Semper Fi, jack ass.”

He stares at her right in the eye, and spits again over the wall. She flips him the bird and walks down to the other end of the wall and sits there for the rest of the shift.

***  
“Hey! Jarhead!”

She rolls her eyes. She just finished a twelve-hour guard shift, filling in for Martinez. During the fight last night, he had his ass handed to him by the loudmouth trying to get her attention. She’s tired and looking forward to a good night’s rest but she can hear Merle jogging to catch up to her. It’s better to deal with him now.

“What do you want, Grunt?” 

He whistles low. “Twelve-hour shift and still has energy to sass.”

“I am always ready for whatever life throws my direction. Apparently tonight it’s you.”

“Oh sweetheart,” he laughs, “nothing could get you ready for me.”

“I have found those who talk big are compensating for things that…aren’t so big.”

“Is that a challenge?” he drawls. “Easy enough to settle this one right fast.”

She’s thankful it’s dark and he can’t see the blush that has gone from her neck straight up to the tips of her ears. She forgets that Merle has two goals: break noses and lay women. If she had to choose between the two, she would go for the breaking of the nose, his or hers. “Did you want something?”

He grins at her, poking his tongue into his cheek. “Sounds like you may want a little somethin’ somethin’.”

She starts to turn away but he clears his throat so she pauses mid-step.

“Going on a supply run in the morning. Could use another set of eyes out there.”

“Fine. What time?”

“Meet at the front gate at 6 am.”

She nods and starts to walk away.

Merle calls out to her. “What’s your name?”

“Apparently, I answer to ‘Jarhead’,” she calls over her shoulder.

***  
The supply run goes smoother than she thought it would except for one thing: Martinez finds a few boxes of fireworks and manages to stuff them into the truck. It doesn’t take the Governor long to make the announcement of another town wide celebration. Her name is first, and the only one, on the list to take guard duty the night of the celebration. She considers herself lucky when no one asks her about her choice to be as far away as possible. That is one of the perks of living in the end of times: everyone finally realizes people have reasons for doing what they do and leave them the hell alone.

She’s hunkered down behind a makeshift blind, her legs stretched out in front of her and gun across her lap, when the first firework goes off. Her eyes smart from the noise and flash of light that reflects off the trees outside the wall. She closes her eyes and takes three deep breaths before the next one goes off.

“Hey, Jarhead.”

Oh shit. Of all the nights for him to come find her, this is not the one she is prepared for. But she’s a solider. Fake it to get the job done. “Hey, Ground Pounder.”

Merle gives her a crooked grin. “Sounds like a come on to me.”

“Everything sounds like a come on to you.” Another firework explodes overhead and she tries not to jump. Only her leg twitches so she considers it a win.

“Brought you somethin’ to eat. Figure you shouldn’t miss out on Ellie’s fried chicken.”

She’s about to decline but her stomach betrays her so she takes the offered plate. “Thank you.”

Instead of leaving, he leans on the wall of the blind and stares out at the forest tree line. “Figured there be more walkers comin’ out of the woods tonight.”

“Give ‘em a couple minutes,” she says around a mouthful of chicken. “We’re only two fireworks into the show.”

Merle continues to watch over the wall as she finishes the food he brought her. Six fireworks in, he bends down to pick up a rifle. “Here they come.”

She gets up to her feet and shoulders her AR-15. “Want to make a competition out of this?”

“Depends,” he smirks, “what does the winner get?”

“I may have swiped a decent piece of apple pie before coming up here.”

“Good enough.”

Thankful for the distraction, she focuses on the woods. They take turns shooting at the walkers that meander out of the cover of the trees. Merle misses his first walker when the thing trips over an exposed root.

“Dammit!”

She laughs and lines up her shot when a particularly loud firework goes off directly overhead. Her entire body shakes and she can’t pull the trigger. Sweat breaks out from her scalp to her toes and soaks through her clothes. She focuses on her breathing when she hears Merle take the shot. She feels ridiculous and weak, a sorry excuse for a Marine.

“PTSD,” Merle says to her.

She nods, surprised to hear a touch of sympathy in his voice.

“Figured that’s why you wanted this shift.”

Now it all makes sense. The food, the shoot-a-walker-win-some-pie game. “You’re checking up on me. Making sure I don’t, what? Go Rambo on the town?” She holds up her rifle. “Get scared enough to put a bullet in my own head?”

He doesn’t say a word. For the first time since she had known him, he actually stays silent and it pisses her off.

“I’m not crazy!”

“Didn’t say ya were.”

“Then why are you here?”

He frowns slightly and turns to take down another walker. “Let’s just say, I’m not a social butterfly. Not too many places for me to go that wouldn’t look suspicious. Thought hanging out with you would be a good enough cover.”

Another firework goes off and she flinches. “B-but I thought the Governor trusted you? Aren’t you his second-in-command?”

Merle laughs shortly. “The Governor don’t trust his own shadow.”

She realizes the trust he has just shown to her and feels grateful. “Good to know.”

“You’re two down,” he tells her, lining another shot. “Now it’s three.”

Out of all the people in the town, Merle Dixon is the last one she assumed would offer an olive branch of trust to her. She doesn’t care about the walker body count and even the fireworks have started to dim into background noise. Her focus is solely on the line of his back, the slope of his shoulders, the flex in his biceps when the gun recoils. He may be her only ally in this sinister Mayberry-knock off.

“Roz.”

He turns his focus from the walkers. “What?”

“My name. It’s Rosalyn. But my friends call me Roz.”

A slow, genuine smile creeps across his face. “That’s certainly a mite prettier than ‘Jarhead.’”

“Show’s over!”

She jumps slightly at the intrusion of Martinez. “What?”

He climbs up to the blind where she and Merle are. “Fireworks, they’re all done. Your shift is over.”

She nods and hands over the AR-15. She grabs the remnants of the chicken and the pie she swiped before climbing up there. She mumbles a good night to Martinez and climbs down to the ground. She’s not surprised that Merle follows her down and she hands him the cloth napkin with the pie in it.

“Your prize, won fair and square.”

He takes it from her and she expects him to meander off to wherever he calls home. However, he continues to walk in step with her. The small, one-bedroom apartment over an antique store is her living quarters and it’s on the other side of the square. There are still a few people milling around, cleaning up and just talking. It really does have a small town feel to it but she always felt it was just a front.

It feels staged, Stepford-wifeish. Merle’s comment about the Governor being distrustful of everyone, including him, seems to align with her perceptions now. The insidiousness of the falseness hits her hard as she watches smiling women in dresses fold the red gingham tablecloths. The smell of gunpowder still hangs in the air and it makes her skin crawl. Everything about this night is leaving her unsettled.

“Here’s my stop,” she tells Merle.

“Funnily enough, it’s mine too.”

She gives him a “not a chance” look only to realize he’s being serious. He flashes her a shit-eating grin.

“All this time and you never realized I lived above ya?”

She feels like an idiot. “No, I didn’t.”

“Looks like it’s score two for the Ground Pounder while the Jarhead is at a big, fat zero.”

She unlocks the door on the side of the building to the stairs up to the living spaces above the store. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Grunt.”

When she reaches the landing for her apartment, she pauses outside the door. “Thanks. For tonight. It helped…not being alone.”

He nods and stares at the floor. “Had too much of a temper to stay in the Army. Got kicked out before seein’ combat. But I had friends who came back. They were messed up.” He finally looks her in the eye. “’S’not your fault, whatever happened over there. War makes everyone do things they don’t wanna do.”

She sees something familiar in his clear blue eyes: regret and rationalizing poor decisions. “Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to convince yourself of the same thing?”

He sighs deeply. “Guess, it’s cause I am.”

She fiddles with the keys in her hand. “I have some coffee stashed. You want some?”

Gone is the flirting and teasing. It is with complete seriousness that he answers “Yes.”

She opens the door and lets him in, watching as he locks the door behind him. It should have alarmed her, having a semi-strange man locked himself in her apartment with her. But something happened tonight on the guard wall. Between the fireworks and the walkers and the fried chicken and apple pie, something shifted with them. She busies herself with the coffee, knowing with the generators going for the party she only has a few minutes to boil water for the French press. Merle wanders around the small space, checking the windows to make sure they’re closed and locked too.

“What I said tonight,” he says lowly, “that stays between us.”

She nods. “Understood. It’s nice to hear that my gut was right about this place though.”

“That so?”

“It’s a little too perfect. You know what I mean?”

He pulls the shades on the few windows in the living area and kitchen. “Not quite. But that could be I see what goes on behind the scenes.”

A small shiver runs down her back. Part of her wants to know what happens out of eyesight of the average citizen of Woodbury but one look at Merle’s face tells her she’s better off not knowing. She reaches for the coffee she has pushed towards to the back of the near empty cabinet when Merle reaches around her and unplugs the electric kettle. Her breath catches in her throat and she goes completely still. He’s standing directly behind her, close enough she can feel the heat off his body.

“Didn’t really want any coffee.”

She can feel his breath on the back of her neck. Her heart is pounding in her ears and she starts scanning the counter for something she can use for a weapon.  
“Just needed an excuse to get in here in case someone was listening in.”

The electric kettle. It’s still filled with semi-hot water. Her hand starts to creep towards it when he tugs on her arm, turning her around and covering her mouth with his own. It takes her a couple of seconds to realize the context of what he was saying to her and when it hits her, she breaks away from him, beginning to laugh. The semi-hurt look on his face only makes her laugh harder. She wipes tears from her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she manages between laughs. “I’m sorry. I completely misread that situation.”

He nods once. “Not into men, then.”

“No, no I am!” She grabs a hold of his shirt sleeve to stop him from turning away from her. “I thought you…were…”

“What?”

“Well, you’re locking the door and windows and pulling the shades. Saying the coffee was just an excuse to get in here-“

His eyes widened. “You thought I was gonna kill ya?”

God, she feels like an idiot but she needs to own up to it. “Yeah, I did.”

He slips his arm around her, pulling her flush against him. “I can certainly make ya scream like I’m killin’ ya.”

“There’s no off switch with you, is there?”

“You can look for one-“

“Less talking please.”

He obliges and kisses her again. She had heard all the rumors about Merle’s sexual escapades in Woodbury. She wondered if he knew the majority of women referred to him as “Woodbury’s Welcome Wagon – every woman gets a ride.” But she could understand now why so many women offered themselves to him. He kisses her thoroughly, sweetly almost…like she matters. His tongue runs along her lower lip and she opens her mouth to him. The sweetness disappears immediately and is replaced with a devouring heat.

His hand slides under her shirt, skimming across the skin of her stomach and over her bra. Her knees almost give out then and there. It’s been so long since she’s been with a man, everything is overwhelming. His muscles flexing under her touch, the smell of gunpowder clinging to his clothes, the feel of his mouth on her skin as he lavishes open-mouth kisses and nips alongside her neck. Her nails are digging into his shoulder and forearm in an attempt to keep her upright. He turns them and backs up until her legs hit the kitchen table. She hops up on the table and immediately wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him against her.

“Been awhile,” he chuckled against her collarbone.

“Merle.”

“What?”

She reaches down and pulls her shirt over her head and starts unbuttoning her pants. “Less talking.”

He leans back with a wide grin and reaches for his belt buckle. “Yes, ma’am.”

***

Roz had wondered if it was going to be the standard one-night stand. But one night turns into two, then three, until she begins keeping track of the time and finds almost three weeks have passed. What was supposed to be a quick roll in the hay is turning into something that resembles something more. Stories and secrets are being shared under the cloak of darkness and with bare skin against bare skin.

It is around the month mark when she wakes up from a nightmare, drenched in sweat, unable to catch her breath. She fights the sheets and long limbs that are tangled around her arms and legs before managing to fall to the floor with a dull thud. She lays on the rough floorboards, pressing her cheek to the semi-cool floor. Breathe through her nose, release it through her mouth. She stays there until her breathing returns to normal and when she opens her eyes, she sees Merle is sitting on the side of the bed.

“You alright?”

“Bad dream.” She pulls herself up from the floor and climbs over him to get back into bed. She straightens out the sheets before crawling back underneath of them. But she doesn’t lay down. She knows if she closes her eyes, the dream will come back. The memories will come back.

Merle shifts so he’s sitting beside her but not crowding into her space. “War?”

“Yeah.” She takes a deep breath, leans her head against the headboard. “I was a gunnery sergeant for a tank envoy unit. My job was to make sure everyone got where they needed to go safely.”

“Guess I should start calling ya Gunny instead of Jarhead.”

She smiles halfway. It’s been a long time since someone called her gunny. “Thirty-six trips. No casualties, no injuries. But the thirty-seventh trip…”

“What happened?”

“IED. Hidden underneath a rock. No one saw it.”

Merle reaches out and slides his hand across her side and stomach, over the raised scars that were there. “That how ya got these?”

“Yeah.” She lays her hand over his. “It’s also why I can’t have kids. The medics barely kept me together. And I was one of the lucky ones.”

“Still not your fault.”

“So why does it feel like it?”

Merle pulls her towards him until she’s halfway laying across his lap. “That’s the job of scars, Jarhead. Make us feel guilty for the things that put them there.”

She sighs and relaxes against him. “Is that how you feel about the scars on your back?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve never told me how you got them.”

“Nope.”

“You’re not going to, are you?”

“Nope.”

Some secrets aren’t ready to be shared and Roz wonders if he’s as much hers as it’s beginning to feel. Or will tomorrow night be the night when he chooses to warm someone else’s bed? She decides that’s something to worry about tomorrow.

***  
Something is terribly off, she can feel it under her skin and in her bones. It’s the same feeling she would get before an envoy would get ambushed. It starts in the pit of her stomach until the uneasiness spreads to her heart and brain. It steadies her hands and clears her mind. She stands at the window of her apartment and watches the few people milling around the square. There’s an enemy out there, ready to ambush them all.

She hears the lock on the door turn and quickly pulls the curtains. They’ve kept whatever it is they have quiet for almost two months now. And with the unease she is feeling, it’s best to keep it quiet. When she turns, Merle is sitting on her couch and staring into space. That feeling of being ambushed winds itself around her again.

“What happened?”

He doesn’t say anything and part of her goes numb. She walks over to him and sits down on the coffee table so they’re facing each other. His eyes stay unfocused for a few heartbeats until they land on something: her chest. The knot in her stomach unravels as a small smile quirks the side of her mouth. Everything is tits and ass with this man but, for the time being, it’s her tits and ass. She’s about to comment on that when he leans forward, resting his bad arm on his knee and reaching towards her with his left hand.

Her dog tags.

He touches her dog tags with an eerie sense of respect, letting them rest in the palm of his hand. Her stomach knots itself up even tighter than before.

“Merle.”

“We need to get outta here.”

She lays her hand over his until they’re both closed over the metal tags. “What happened?”

He looks her in the eyes and she sees guilt and regret. She had heard it in some of his words, when he was half-asleep and not paying attention to keeping up his façade. She would see flashes of it across the line of his shoulders or the twitch of his jaw. But never had he allowed it to show in his eyes. It is the deepest, darkest secret he could have ever revealed to her. And she understands what he’s telling her.

“The soldiers who had the supplies you brought back today weren’t dead, were they?”

He shakes his head and lowers it. “All I thought about was you. How that could’ve been you. How it was you at one time.” His thumb rubs over the engraving on the tag. “Wasn’t right.”

There’s a flash of anger at the thought of fellow soldiers being mowed down unnecessarily. But her anger is toward the Governor. He was always the one calling the shots and any resistance was dealt with swiftly and efficiently. He crossed a line today. Even though Merle hadn’t served any active duty, soldiers still had a bond between them that was respected, supported. The Governor failed to acknowledge this.

“You’re right,” she says. “We need to get out of here.”

Surprise crosses his face. “You’d come with me?”

“Of course.”

His mouth is on hers before she even registers the movement. He pulls her into his lap, her legs falling easily on either side of his hips. He groans into her mouth as his hand slides under her shirt and she grinds down on his hardness. There’s a difference in his touch tonight. It goes past desperation and into the territory of…need. She’s not just a one-night-stand or a temporary bedmate. The realization causes his need to infect her. She stands up and he looks at her in surprise until he sees her shoving her pants down her legs. He quickly unbuckles his own pants and she climbs back onto his lap, sinking down on his hard length.

Her whole body is vibrating and it has nothing to do with the hard, quick snap of his hips as he thrusts into her. She grips the back of the couch until her knuckles go white. Merle tangles his hand in her hair and pulls her mouth back to his. She can feel her orgasm building already.

“Merle…” she moans.

His grip on her hair tightens and that’s all it takes to push her over the edge. He buries his face against her neck, his body jolting as he comes. She slumps against him, her forehead resting against his while they catch their breath. Her hand trails down the side of his face, across the rough stubble from a couple days without shaving, before resting on his solid chest. She smiles as she feels the steady beat of his heart underneath her palm.

“Say it again,” he whispers.

“What?”

“That you’re coming with me.”

She lifts her head and looks him in the eye. “I would follow you through the gates of hell, Merle Dixon.”

His fingers are still in her hair and she feels the pads of his fingertips press into the back of her skull briefly. “It may come to that, darlin’.”

A smile breaks across her face. “If anyone can kick the devil’s ass, it’s you.”

***  
The opportunity to leave presents itself not long after that night. The feeling of change came over her as she stood against the back wall of the makeshift fighting ring. She hated these nights, even though Merle assured her they were staged. He would come to her with some minor scrapes and bruises but nothing serious. It is the crowd that disturbs her. The shouting and cheering, the calling for blood makes her think that they were going back to the archaic days of gladiators. The enthusiasm for violence was frightening.

But there is something else in the night air, something other than the smell of sweat, dust, and the decaying walkers on their chains. She stays on the edge of the crowd, behind the ring of firelight of the torches. The Governor walks towards the center of the ring, a white patch over his eye. Her stomach drops and she tightens her hold on the AR-15’s strap across her chest. She steps close enough to the spectators for Merle to see her. Their eye contact is brief but significant. He feels the change in the air too.

Despite the gut level warnings they feel, nothing prepares them for the Governor’s accusations. Roz feels the ground drop from underneath of her at the words “terrorist” and “traitor.” Sweat breaks out on her skin from head to toe and she can feel it run in rivulets down her back as Merle is stripped of his weapons and pushed into the center of the ring.

She has to shoot the Governor. That’s the only way to end this. But as she reaches for her gun, Merle looks right at her and minutely shakes his head “no.” She forces her hand back to the nylon strap and swallows down the tears that are smarting her eyes. She’s a solider. She’s a marine. She protected entire tank envoys in Afghanistan. The thirty-seventh trip may have ended in disaster but there were thirty-six before it that were a success. She can get them both out of this but they need to work together.

They are going to leave together, dead or alive.

Another figure, one with a pillowcase over his head is pushed into the ring. She watches Merle’s face when the pillowcase is removed and doesn’t need to guess who the newcomer happens to be. She knows it’s Daryl before the Governor introduces him as Merle’s brother. Everything goes to hell in a matter of seconds.

The crowd is screaming for blood.

The Governor announces it’s a fight to the death.

And they start to fight.

Roz is scanning the area for an escape route. Both of the Dixons are going to need it. She slinks back into the shadows behind the torches and a motion catches her eye. There’s a woman with dark hair and an assault rifle hiding behind a crate. If there was one, there’s another. Roz starts looking at all the crates and sees a few more people taking cover. She slips into the persona of a tough Marine and meanders over the side of the building next to one of the crates. She keeps her hands open, palms forward as she walks. If it truly is the group that Daryl has been with, they should recognize a surrender sign when they see one. Merle told her one of them was a sheriff. Nothing happens by the time she turns and sits down on one of the crates. She ducks her head, acting like she’s scratching her nose.

“You the prison group?” she says lowly. Merle had told her he believed his brother was with the group that was using the prison as a shelter. There is no answer for a few minutes and the cheering of the crowd is raising its volume.

“Yeah,” a man finally answers.

“I want out of here,” Roz tells them. “Merle wants out too.”

Someone shifts slightly behind the crate.

“Go straight north out of the ring. I’ll have a portion of the wall down and cleared for you all.”

“And we give you and Merle a way out?”

She glances down and sees a thin man with dark curly hair and a beard staring up at her. “No friendly fire.”

He glances down at the chain around her neck. “What branch?”

“Marine.”

He nods. “No friendly fire. Go north out of the ring.”

She stands up, scans the crowd to see if anyone is watching her. Satisfied that everyone is focused on the ring, she slips past the crates and into the darkness of Woodbury. As soon as she hears the gunshots ringing out behind her, she sprints to the north wall. The two guards that were assigned there are running towards her, guns drawn. 

“Injuries!” she shouts at them. “Go help them!”

They follow her orders blindly and she thanks whatever deity is out there for that. She climbs up the wall and runs along the side until she sees a rusted pick-up truck on the other side. She holds the AR-15 in front of her as she jumps the barbed wire. She lands in a crouch on the roof. The commotion from the ring has brought the walkers out of the woods. She feels precious time slipping from her as she takes out eight walkers before climbing down off the truck.

By the time she has found a weak spot in the wall, someone is trying to break it down from the inside. She grabs the edge of the metal and helps them peel it back. She hopes that when the metal is removed it’s going to be a friendly face staring back at her. Thankfully, it’s very familiar blue eyes staring back at her. Merle releases a sigh of relief at seeing her, grabs her shoulder and they’re off running on the other side of Woodbury’s wall.

***  
The prison is not what she expects. Even though Merle had told her everything that was happening in Woodbury, she is not prepared for the hostility that greets them in the prison. Since she had aligned herself with Merle so solidly, they put them both in a separate cell block from everyone else. Roz understands why it is done but it still wounds her. Their first night there, they curl around each other so that they can both fit on the single mattress in one of the cells.

“It’s not fair,” he says, his breath hot against her neck.

“It’s a bed and shelter out of Woodbury.”

“Shouldn’t be treating you like this.”

Roz rolls over, having to half lay over him on the narrow bed. “Semper Fidelis. Do you know what that means?”

He grins up at her. “Always an asshole?”

She punches him on the shoulder. “I made you a promise. I intend to keep it.”

His hand rests on her hip, his thumb dragging over her hip bone. “You don’t know what lies ahead of ya. These people, they think I’m the devil. They’re gonna ask me to do things that aren’t on the up-and-up.”

“As bad as what the Governor had you do?”

“Probably not. But Rick,” Merle shakes his head. “Rick’s losing it. I don’t know what he’s gonna do anymore.”

Roz lays her head down on his shoulder and presses her lips to the side of his neck. “Talk to your brother. Get a feel for the situation and we’ll go from there.”

Merle hums in approval and pulls her fully on top of him, his hand sliding up the side of her body. “I got something else in mind I’d like to feel.”

She swats his hand away. “I am not having sex with you in a prison cell. God knows what is on this mattress.”

He grins crookedly at her. “Don’t have to happen on the bed. I can think of some fun things we can do with those bars.”

She raises an eyebrow and looks over at the bars of the cell. “Like what?”

He sits up suddenly, her legs going instinctively around his waist. He stands up, easily holding her up with one arm. “Let me show ya.”

***  
It’s been a few weeks since they arrived at the prison. There had been rumors and talk of the Governor retaliating but nothing had occurred.

Yet.

Roz has taken to going to one of the highest catwalks in the prison every morning. Even though she’s grateful to be protected, fed, and having a roof over her head, the tension between Merle and everyone else is starting to get to her. She doesn’t know how to prove herself to these people and she wonders if they’ll ever accept her and Merle into their group. The door to the walkway opens on rusty hinges and she’s surprised to hear the squeak of crutches instead of Merle’s sure footfalls.

“Morning,” Hershel greets her.

“Mornin’,” she responds. She wonders what has happened that warrants her a visit from the old farmer.

“I would have brought you a cup of coffee but…” he motions to the crutches.

Roz smiles. “Appreciate the thought.”

“Merle says you’re a marine, that you saw combat.”

She threads her fingers through the chain link fence that runs around the walkway. “That’s right.”

“You were a gunny and a damn fine one from the sounds of it.”

“I did my part.” She gives him a shrewd look. “What do you want from me?”

“We could use someone like you. A protector.”

“A sniper.”

Hershel shrugs. “Whatever you want to call it. We could use you.”

She tightens her grip on the metal. “And Merle?”

“We can use him too. But he needs to place nice with others.”

“From where I’m standing, it seems like the others need to play nice too.” She lets go of the fence and steps back from it. “I’m not making excuses for him. I’m certainly not making excuses for what happened to your daughter and her boyfriend.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“I’m reminding you that concessions are made during a time of war.” She scuffs the toe of her boot against the concrete. “I certainly have no excuses for shooting a fourteen-year-old boy dead because he had a bomb strapped to his chest and was about to walk into our camp. I have no excuse for killing a sixteen-year-old girl who pulled a gun on a reporter. I did what I had to in order to live another day. And if came down to another person or me, I pulled the trigger.”

“You were protecting, not killing.”

“Taking a life is taking a life. You can’t reason it away or excuse it. It merely is what it is.”

“It’s survival.”

Roz looked up at him with a sad smile. “It is. And that’s what Merle and I had to do in Woodbury. Concession in order to see another day.”

Hershel nods and sighs.

“That’s what I like about coming up here,” Roz says as she points out at the field and tree line where walkers are wandering around. “Woodbury had solid walls around it. No one could see the threat. But here, you can always see the threat.”

“No one saw the Governor as a threat.”

Roz frowns. “And no one sees Rick Grimes as one either. It’s always too late when you realize that the devil isn’t out there. The devil is never on the outside of the wall. He’s always standing right next to you.”

“Rick ain’t the devil. Not like the Governor.”

“That so?” Roz crossed her arms. “Merle told me what Rick asked him to do. About turning Michonne over to the Governor.”

Hershel didn’t say anything.

“Both men see people as bargaining chips. Both men hide behind the guise of doing what’s best for their people. And both men have asked Merle to do their dirty work for them. So, tell me again how Rick is so much better than the Governor? Convince me that we haven’t traded one devil for another?”

“I can’t do either one because,” Hershel takes a deep breath, “I see your point.”

“What?”

“I agree with you. I don’t think we should be handing over Michonne to the Governor. It’s not right to send someone to their death knowingly. And Merle and Michonne are both going to die if they go back to Woodbury.”

Roz nods her head. “I know. I’ve told Merle he shouldn’t go.”

“What did he say?”

She shrugs. “That he’d think about other options.”

They stand in silence for a few moments until Hershel speaks again. “Go with him.”

“Excuse me?”

“Tell him you’re going to go with him back to Woodbury. I guarantee you, he won’t go then.”

“What makes you say that?”

Hershel smiles at her, his eyes crinkling in their corners. “He loves you.”

Roz laughs. “He loves his brother, that’s it.”

“Tell him you’re going to Woodbury,” Hershel winks at her. “See what he says.”

***  
“Hell no you’re not!”

“Merle!”

“No!” Merle grabs the old telephone and wraps the cord around it before stuffing it in a bag. “Your ass is staying here!”

“The hell it is,” Roz yelled back. “If you’re going off on this hair-brained idea of a plan, you’re sure as shit going to take me.”

“The hell is going on down here?”

Both Roz and Merle turn to see Daryl walking into the room, crossbow at the ready. He drops it when he sees it’s just the two of them.

“Can hear you two three floors up,” Daryl tells them. “At least ya got your clothes on this time.”

Roz shoots Merle a glare as heat rises to her face. Merle has the audacity to grin and shrug his shoulders. Roz turns back to Daryl. “Do you know about this fucked up plan that your brother is buying into?”

Daryl stares at the floor. “Yeah.”

“Are you’re okay with this too?”

“Lay off him,” Merle drawls. “He’s just doing what Officer Friendly is telling him is good and right.”

“So, let’s get this straight,” Roz points to Daryl. “You’re supportive of this plan of sending two people that Governor has labeled as traitors and enemies back to Woodbury and certain death. And you,” she turns to Merle, “are willing to do this asinine thing. And this is all because no one wants to go against our fearless leader?”

Neither of the men said anything.

Roz nods. “Good to know I’m the only one in here with a pair of balls.”

“What would you have us do?” Daryl asks. “Huh? The Governor’s knocking down our walls and shooting up the place. He wants us gone. Dead. We have to take him out.”

“I’m not saying we don’t take him out. There just has to be a better way.” Roz turns to Merle. “You’re really going to walk into Woodbury and think the Governor is going to welcome you back with open arms? You’re not a stupid man, Merle. You know what he’s going to do to you. You’re going to do that to your brother?” She took a deep breath. “You’re going to do that to me?”

Neither one of the brothers say anything, both of them staring at the floor. Roz throws her hands up in defeat. “Do me a favor. In thirty minutes, one of you need to grow a pair before we all end up dead.”

She storms out of the room and makes her way quickly back to her own cell block. She blows past Beth and Carol, ignoring their calls out to her to get her attention. She can feel the stinging of tears forming in her eyes and she can’t let anyone see her cry. Crying is weakness. No one has time or the energy to cry in this world anymore. But that doesn’t stop her from weeping, kicking and shaking the cell bars in segregated cell block. Everything they had risked together over the course of six months now, and Merle is willing to toss it aside and for what? To keep peace with a group of people who don’t even want him here to begin with?

She wraps her hands around the metal bars of an empty cell and rests her forehead against it. The sun makes its way across the sky, about two hours have passed, and she’s still standing there when she hears the now familiar sound of Merle’s footsteps. He’s surprisingly quiet when he walks and moves, she thinks idlily. She hears him pause next to her but neither one of them moves for the longest time.

He is the one that eventually makes the first move, stepping into the cell and grabbing the cell bar next to her hand. She watches their knuckles brush each other as he leans against her back, pressing her against the bar. She jerks her shoulder back against him, pushing him away.

“So not in the mood,” she snaps.

“Calm down, Jarhead.” He leans against her again, bending his head so his lips brush against her ear. “We got a plan.”

“What?”

“Talked to Daryl and we got a plan.”  
***

Three months later…

She wakes up in a bed.

It’s an honest-to-God bed. Her head is on a pillow, she’s under clean sheets, and she tries hard to not cry. It feels luxurious and she’s afraid to open her eyes and find it’s all cruel trick. She could be back at the prison.

Or worse, Woodbury. 

She reaches out a hand to see if Merle is beside her in this wonderful place but her hand hits a wall. Sighing deeply, she opens her eyes and finds herself staring at a blank, white wall. If this was the afterlife, she has to admit, she expected it be a little more colorful than this. She rolls over and sees that she’s in what looks like a dorm room. She’s in a single sized bed with another bed across the small room. Both have what look like handmade quilts on them. The other bed is unmade, the occupant no longer there.

Sitting up, she sees that there is some color to the wall. Children’s drawings are pinned to the wall over a desk. Colorful butterflies and flowers with childlike scrawl of “Get Well Soon” written on the majority of them. There’s nothing else in the room to give her a clue as to where she could be or if Merle was anywhere close. She swings her legs over the side of the bed and realizes she’s dressed in oversized nightshirt that is just as clean as the sheets.

The door opens and a dark-skinned woman with a hijab enters carrying a stack of clothes. Is she back in Afghanistan? Were the walkers just a dream? Her stomach twists. Was Merle just a dream?

“Oh good, you’re awake,” the woman smiles at her. She has a slight Southern drawl but it’s not that noticeable. “You were out for a long time. Had us wondering if you were in a worse state than…” she motions to Roz herself. “Well, you’re awake now. I’ll go get your husband. He’s been very worried.”

The woman leaves before Roz can stop her. Husband? And worse state than what? She stands up and stumbles over to the window. She looks down on an overgrown garden and a few brick buildings. It looks like a small college campus that’s been overgrown. She breathes a momentary sigh of relief as she realizes it’s not Woodbury and certainly not the prison. She goes back to the bed and sinks down on it, trying to recall the last thing she can remember.

_The plan keeps them alive for a handful of months. Roz and Merle left the prison with Michonne in tow, only to release her when they were out of sight of the prison. She agreed to stay lost for a couple days before wandering back to the prison. Merle gave her maps of Woodbury, a list of weak spots in their defenses, and suggestions of where to hit them to make it count. She grudging wished them the best of luck before heading off into the tree line._

_They live off the land for the first few days, survival taking all their energy. They find houses here and there that are semi-habitable. Roz tries to convince Merle to just choose one that they could fix up as their own private safe place. But he’s nervous and wanting to be on the move. They haven’t received word from Daryl that the Governor has been dealt with so they continue to move every day. Pretty soon, they’re out of range of the prison and any hope of hearing about Woodbury’s fate._

_Merle grieves for Daryl as if he had died. Roz doesn’t have the heart to give him false hope and suggest Rick’s group managed to take down Woodbury and the Governor. She holds that hope in her own heart though. One of them has to believe there is some justice in this fucked up world. They had been travelling for close to three months when, tired and hungry, a herd surrounds them. They fight as best they can but survival has become too great for just two of them._

_Roz falls to her knees from sheer exhaustion. “Out of bullets.”_

_Merle crouches down next to her. “I got two left.”_

_She knows what that means. They had talked about this many times. Better to go out on their own terms then be reduced to the things that had taken normalcy from the world. They had done their best and there was some comfort in that. “Alright.”_

_They had promised to make no sappy goodbyes or eloquent speeches about love. Their deaths would be just as their lives: short and to the point. No tears, no fuss. But when she looks at Merle to tell him to go ahead and put her down, she can see the hesitation in his eyes. She lays her hand on the side of his face and kisses him sweetly on the lips._

_“It’s okay,” she assures him. “I’ll see you on the other side.”_

_She bows her head, not wanting to see it coming and hears the bullet go into the chamber. But the gunshot that she hears isn’t the one that is next to her ear. It comes from twenty-five yards away, south east and it takes out two walkers at once._

_“The hell!?” Merle whispers next to her._

_She looks up and sees multiple walkers going down. Merle drops his own knees at the sight of it. Whatever is happening is a miracle and the relief is so great that Roz feels herself passing out and lets it overtake her._

The door opens again and she’s relieved to see Merle coming through it this time. A quick glance over him shows that he’s healthy and fit as ever. He grabs the chair by the desk and sits down on it next to the bed. She fights the urge to crawl into his lap and curl up in his arms. But she sits still and studies his face. She relaxes when she sees the familiar warmth in his blue eyes.

“I gotta talk fast before Miss Nosey comes back in here,” he starts. “I told ‘em we were married so they wouldn’t separate us. Wasn’t sure about ‘em when they picked us up.”

Roz shrugs. “Okay.”

He sits back and raises his eyebrows. “Not opposed to being married to me?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “As long as we’re not part of some cult and I’m in a harem.”

He whistles low. “I should have thought about that before you woke up.”

She punches his arm and tries to look stern but she can’t hide the smile on her face. She’s just so thankful that he wasn’t just a dream. He’s real, and he’s here with her still. They’re still surviving in this crazy-ass world. He becomes serious again and takes her hand.

“There’s one other thing I need to tell ya.”

She braces herself to hear that the Governor is still out there. That Woodbury is gaining strength. That Rick Grimes’ group was wiped out. That Daryl was gone. She squeezes his hand. “Tell me. Just blurt it out.”

He takes a deep breath and the door opens again. The woman from before comes in again, all smiles, and stands next to her and Merle.

“I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself before. I’m Nabila.”

Roz looks over at Merle, who just motions for Nabila to continue.

“I’m the Kingdom Gardener but before that I was a midwife here in the DC area.”

“DC area?” Roz asks Merle. “Is that where we are? We made it all the way to DC?”

“Not the word you were suppose to notice in that sentence, sweetheart.”

Roz plays back the sentence in her mind. “What’s a Kingdom Gardener?”

Merle shakes his head. “Try again.”

“Midwife?”

Nabilia’s smile grows even more wider. “Yes, ma’am. You’re going to be needing one in about six months, I’d say.”

“But, that’s not possible.” Roz looks between Merle and Nabilia. “I was told after I got back from overseas that I couldn’t have children. The shrapnel…”

“You’ve got some scarring,” Nabilia answered. “But it’s not deep enough to cause permanent damage. It won’t be an easy time for you or the baby, but I’m confident you’ll both be just fine.” She moves over to the pile of clothes. “Some of the ladies here went through our supplies and found some things that you could use during this time. So, you just pick out what you want and I’ll be back with some food.”

The door shuts, leaving them alone again. Merle rubs his thumb over the back of her hand. “You okay?”

“Are you? This wasn’t planned.”

He laughs. “Look around us. You think anything is planned nowadays. You just woke up from a two-week nap to a ‘husband’ and a kid. You don’t plan for shit like that.”

Roz shakes her head. “True. Very true. So, where the hell are we?”

“It’s called ‘The Kingdom.’” He tosses her some clothes. “I’ll show ya around as much as I can.”

“And the person who’s in charge? Is he…okay?”

Merle rubs the back of his neck. “He’s interesting. Loud. But he seems like good people. Better than the Governor for certain.”

Roz pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. “Is he going to make us stay?”

“Not if we don’t want to.”

“Do you want to stay here?”

He pauses at the door, his hand on the doorknob. “That’s a decision we’ll have to make together. But if you’re askin’ if it’s safe, yeah. It’s safe. For now at least.”

They open the door and step out into the hallway. They are in some kind of boarding school from the looks of it. Nabilia is walking towards them with a tray of food.

“I’m glad I brought food that can travel,” she says as she puts the tray down on a small decorative table as she hands Roz a sandwich and an apple. “I told his Majesty that you’re awake and up. He said if you’re up to it, he’ll be in the garden. If not, he’ll come to you later on today.”

Roz shrugs. “Garden it is.” She turns to Merle and mouths “Majesty” behind Nabilia’s back. All Merle does is grin and sling his arm around her shoulders.

“Wait till you see the tiger.”


End file.
